Baby Mine
by Invader Miraza
Summary: I've been following her tape for a reason...I know everything about her. About everything. I don't know where to go from here.
1. I found it

"Here..." her voice was shaking and hollow, tinging with fear and confusion. "...I've never had anyone ASK for it before..." she placed the black blank thing in my hands as if it was laden with disease. Her light blue eyes stared at it like it was the devil in disguise.

I took the tape and turned it over in my hands. It looked so innocent, so...not threatening. It was only a video tape. In the world of DVDs, the VHS was almost extinct anyway...no one would ever expect that -this- was a one-way ticket to the inevitable...

"How did you know I had it?" she hugged herself, staring at me with accusitory eyes. I didn't expect any less, being who she is.

"I did my research...I've been following it."

"Following it...why in God's name...?"

"Don't tell me you won't be happy to be rid of it..."

"...What are you going to do with it?"

"...I'm not sure."

"...Just how much do you know?" She stared at me with those aged blue eyes. She was lin her late 30s, maybe 40. Her eyes looked so old, so spent, so...frightened...eternally frightened. Her blonde hair was a little matted from her sleeping, and faded. Behind her on the couch was a brown-haired teen, snoozing infront of the television. I looked at her again.

"...I know everything." I reached into my pocket and produced a mug-shot like picture, the kind found in medical files. The photograph held the blank listless face of an almost-8-year old with long dark hair framing her porcelain face. Her eyes were dark and malicious, like they held some kind of dark secret. At the bottom of it was the printed name, "MORGAN, SAMARA". She stared at that picture for a long time. Like trying to communicate with it mentally.

"...I saw...that it had finally cycled back around to you...Rachel...and it never left your house." She looked at me then. "I know how you avoided it before. And how she came after you again...she never stopped...you just broke her heart...and she never came back." She looked like she was going to cry.

"...I...needed to save my son...I was trying to be a good mother..."

"...I know." I tucked the tape into my bag and stepped back. "Thank you, Rachel..." I turned to go.

"You haven't watched it...have you..." Her voice called after me. It was a statement, not a question. I turned to her.

"No." It was true. I hadn't. Not yet.

"...Then...why? How?"

"...I don't know..." And then, I left. I sat in my car, driving back home, glancing every so often at the tape in the other seat. I really didn't understand why I had done what I did...months of searching, months of tracking deaths, months of research, faking IDs, borrowing books, seeing people...meeting Evelyn...and finally, Rachel.

I looked at the tape again.

Talk about comming full circle.

It had started when my cousin Brandon received the tape in the mail. It had been sent to him by a penpal, saying it was something he absolutely HAD to watch. He had shown it to me, but I paid it no mind. It was just a tape. A blank tape. But he watched it that evening. That's when the trouble began. I went to the same college as him, so we saw eachother nearly every day.  
On the first day, nothing was terribly wrong. He was just a little distracted. On the second day he met me for lunch. He seemed to look a little paler, and kind of drug his feet around like he hadn't gotten any sleep. On the third day, I didn't see him at all. According to my aunt Ginger, he was sick in bed. Said he just wasn't up for his classes. On the fifth day, I stopped by to see him. He was sitting in bed, writing in a journal. We talked for awhile, and all of a sudden he got very serious. He asked me if I believed in ghosts. I said I didn't know. He asked me if I believed in curses. I said I didn't know about them either. I was starting to get a little nervous. My cousin was a God fearing person. Every hardship, every fear he had, he would turn to God for help. He never believed in ghosts, curses, boogeymen. Why was he asking all these questions. That's when I noticed the journal opened on his lap. It was fillled with these sketches and drawings of these people I had never seen before. And a drawing of a girl, but her face had been scratched out. And I saw all these rings, these circles. I asked him why he was drawing these things. He looked at me and asked if I wanted to watch the video tape his penpal sent. I said no. Then he asked me to. I said no again, and he pleaded with me still. I finally just got up and left.  
On the sixth day, I saw him at school. He was handing the video tape to a friend of his. On the seventh day, he was at dinner with our family. He looked healthier than ever. After dinner, I asked him why he had been acting so strangely over the past few days. And he explained the tape to me. That's when I started following it. Everywhere I went, I picked up more and more information. I watched as it was passed to the next person, and to the next, strange accounts of dreams and visions and drawings comming with it.  
Then, there was a death. Someone who didn't bother to pass it. Someone who didn't believe. It was someone I didn't know, a girl. After fighting my way into the case, I caught a glimpse of the corpse. I can safely say I've never seen anything more horrible in my life. I started to wonder if the tape really -was- a message of death...the tape started cycling again, though how it did was a mystery. I heard names dropped here and there, such as Morgan and Anna, and Moeske...I was led on a journey through supernatural murder, to mental institutions, to a shelter, to another instituion, to a horse ranch...to a barn...and finally to a well...  
I heard the stories of one extraordinarily powered deranged beautiful little girl. It was almost as if her death wasn't the cause of the curse...it may have been the curse that she was born at all. I had met her mother. Strangely when I arrived, she was expecting me.

She told me, "Don't love what doesn't let go. If you must, love what is there, not what was. And listen. Listen."

That's when I lost track of the tape. It just dissapeared somehow. And I finally found one name that might be able to help me.

Rachel Keller. 

It seems after the temporary posession of her son, she found my tape. And for some reason, kept it. Perhaps it was a last ditch effort in trying to stop the madness. Then again...why did she hand it over to me so easily...?

So, here I am. Sitting in the middle of my livingroom. Holding this tape in my hands.

What should I do?

Watch it?

Keep it?

Destroy it?

...Why did I do all that work...? Why had I gotten so obsessive, why did it mean so much to me? This little girl, this...poor murderess child, look at all she had done...why, when I looked at her picture, I felt anything but fear. When I heard her name, it was always beautiful to me, not ugly. When I spoke her name, it rolled off my tounge like something sweet, not bitter like she had so obviously become. I couldn't understand why I cared so much. I stared at the black plastic thing in my hands, and then the television in front of me.

"...What should I do, Samara..."

The black glass stared back at me. Like there were eyes peering out from behind it...

"...What should I do?"


	2. My name is

"Here goes nothing..." I turned on the television and the VCR. "Looks like the only way I'll get you to talk to me is if I watch your tape..."

I put the tape into the VCR and listened to the mechanical whirring as it set up the film inside. I fidgeted and wrung my hands. What if after all my obsessing and work, it doesn't do anything...? What if she just kills me in 7 days, and I never know anything more? The screen flickered. I felt so much doubt squirming at the pit of my stomach, like a handful of worms. What if she doesn't care about who I am or what I had done to get here? What if it was all meaningless? It flickered again. What had I been doing for the past 6 months...

I heard keys in the door. I looked, then the screen came alive to a large white ring. My hand shot out and ejected the tape, just as the door opened.

"Hey! You're back!" my girlfriend walked in, dropping her bag.

I smiled at her. I had been away for a few days, driving up to meet Rachel. She walked over and kissed my head. Her eyes were bright blue, her skin so very pale, piercings on her eyebrows and ears, and she was always in some form of black. She had gone through this thing where she wanted to shave her head, but I think she's gotten over it by now, since she started letting her hair grow back in a short soft fuzz. And she was happy to see me. I leaned up and kissed her cheek. I had missed her more than I thought I would.

"Hey, you." I smiled.

"Getting ready to watch somethin'?" She rubbed my shoulders a little. I looked down at the tape in my hands...I looked up at her.

"It's for the reports I've been tooling around for. Y'know." I shrugged. I had told her the nature of my short vacations were for a class. No sense in telling her about the tape -now-. She's so non-superstitious, she'd watch the damn thing just to prove me wrong anyway. "It's something I've gotta watch alone."

"Aaah, I gotcha." She kissed me, and ran a hand through my hair. Then skipped off to the kitchen. I -did- feel guilty about lying to her. But it was for the best...she doesn't need to get involved in this. I watched her through the small window to our kitchen in our apartment.

We had been together for about 4 years now...I tucked my hair behind my ears. For awhile, I didn't understand -why- we had been together for so long. When we weren't living together, we hardly saw eachother. I was virtually dating a stranger. I didn't know her favorite foods, her favorite colors, I couldn't remember her birthday, the names of her family members, and she couldn't say much for me either. Then, we started living together. And we figured out just how much we didn't know about eachother, and how much two people can actually drive eachother crazy. Women weren't meant to live together. Throw romance in there, and it's a living hell in two and a half rooms.

Maybe I should introduce myself now. My name is Aurora. Yes, I live with a girl and she's my girlfriend. She's my first and only girlfriend, and I'm starting to wonder if I belong in a relationship in either sex, considering how great this one's going. With guys, I seem to be a magnet for America's Most Wanted, stalkers, and sociopathic neo nazis. Maybe I should lay off relationships for a while, if Katelyn and I don't kill eachother before we break up. In a way. It was easier when we didn't know eachother. When every moment together was like a gift. When we used to talk about having kids and getting married. Then we moved in. The good times are great. But the bad times are like getting teeth pulled. It won't be long now, I think. We've been sleeping in seperate rooms, trying to avoid eachother. It was always cold inside...always blue. Sometimes...I still wonder what would have happened if we adopted kids or something.

I looked down at the tape...maybe I could go watch it in the bedroom while she was in the kitchen. I stood up and adjusted my skirt, looking at the black thing in my hands. I had to make sure Kate wasn't going to see it...

The phone rang. I stared at the extention in the kitchen window. I hadn't watched it. I saw the first few seconds, just -barely-. Maybe you didn't need to watch the whole thing or something...Kate answered it. Some friend of hers from work. I headed into the bedroom and turned on the television. Knowing how long her phone conversations are, I probably had some time. I looked at the tape. This was my last chance to back out and forget the whole thing. It was the -worst- time to try to do this; I was behind in my classes, my parents were comming to town to try and accept the fact I have a girlfriend with whom I'm breaking up with very soon, I lost my job so I need to find another one, and now I was trying to communicate with a little dead girl through a video tape.

How hella crazy does THAT sound...? I looked up at the television. Just how much did I -really- want to do this...? How did I know I wasn't going to die in seven days...? How did I know I -was-? Was I leading myself on, or was Rachel Keller the real deal? I heard from a few people that she was perfectly insane...The whole thing was just one big chainletter. A hoax, started by some kid named Yoichi Asakawa in Japan...maybe I should just give the tape away...find a video store somewhere and stick it there. Get back to my hum-drum life as it slowly crumbles away...something caught my eye. I looked down in my lap...

The dark eyes of Samara Morgan stared at me through her little picture.

I had left that in my bag.

My bag was on the floor by the television in the livingroom.

How did it get here.

And why were both of her eyes staring at -me-. She was looking to the -left- before.

...Oh, God...

"...Okay, Samara..." I picked up the picture and the tape. "...Okay." I turned on the VCR and put the tape in. I moved to the edge of the bed, staring down at the little girl in the photograph. I touched the semi-slick finish to it...the television flickered.

I looked up to see a shining ring of light.

And the video began.

-------------------------------

R&R please! I'd like to know how this is turning out. 


	3. Katelyn speaks, Aurora Freaks

"I was in the mood for some chicken and veggies or something...how about you?" I called from the kitchen. Maybe we could -try- to spend one evening together without all the crap.

I crossed to the fridge and got out the chicken I had thrown in the night before. While she was gone, I -had- missed her. Alot. I mean, it was only 3 days apart. Before she left, I was wishing we could have a couple months apart. We started fighting every morning, every night, started eating out instead of together, leaving early so we didn't have to see eachother. And...right now, all I really wanted was to sit down and have a dinner with her. Like we used to, when it didn't happen all the time. But now, she was home...she seemed really distracted. Aloof, almost. That damn school's got her working too hard, especially now that she's lost her job. Maybe I can get her a spot at the restaruant...or something...if we stay together that long.

Yeah, I tried to lie to myself for awhile. All this shit was gonna work itself out, and we'd eventually live happily ever after. But after our last argument, I know it's never going to happen. But...when I walked through the door and went to her, everything felt...okay. Maybe we'll be able to save it for a little longer. Or atleast break it off as easy as we can.

I still hadn't heard an answer.

"Aurora?"

Silence. I walked out into the hall.

"Babe?"

The phone rang. I went to get it, but after one ring it...stopped. Rory must've gotten it. Probably expecting a call or something. I went back to dinner. I bet it was about those report things she's been going around for, with that Anna Morgan stuff about her horses. I snuck into her room while she was gone. Sure, I feel bad about it, but you know. I was curious. I found all this stuff about the Morgans, and their horses, and Moeske, and some woman named Evelyn. And I kept finding the same picture of this creepy-ass little girl with this long hair in her face. Something was just too unnervy about her. I didn't hear anything for a while, so, I tried again.

"Babe, did you hear me?"

Nothing.

"Babe?"

The bedroom door opened. Well, -her- bedroom door opened. I stepped into the hall, and I was -going- to ask who was on the phone, but the look on her face stopped me cold.

She looked like she had run into Death. Her eyes were wide, her face had lost -all- it's color.

She was -shaking-. Actually shaking. What the hell...?

"Rory?...Aurora." I went to her and touched her arms. She looked at me like she -just- realized I was alive.

"...Yeah--Yeah?" she seemed to snap back into reality. "What?"

"...Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay...just...a little stressed." She smiled and walked into the kitchen. I had a feeling that wasn't the only thing...

"Okay, hon...well...I'm making chicken. That okay with you?"

"Yeah, sounds great." She sat at our pitiful little dining table.

"Okay...hey, what do you want to make for Friday?"

"..Friday?"

I looked at her. I couldn't believe she had already forgotten. It was HER idea...

"Friday. Next Friday. Your -parents- are comming."

"..Oh, God, that. I...don't know. I don't care."

"You don't care? You -should- care."

"Yeah? Well, I don't. Just...fix something..."

"Yes, your majesty."

"Oh, don't start that."

"Start what? I just cook, clean, and do shit around here. That's all I'm good for."

"I never said that!"

"Uh-huh, sure."

"Oh, just STOP IT. I'm not home 20 minutes, and we just start fighting again! I'm SICK of it, it's so..Goddamn POINTLESS..."

...And then there was a silence. She was right, though. It really was pointless. And I was sick of it too...I don't know why I was so mad in the first place. And I'm pretty sure she doesn't know why she's mad either.

We spent nearly the entire evening in silence. It was definately something we were used to...then we picked up our plates, dumped them in the dishwasher, and went to bed. Our seperate beds. I stayed up awhile and read. I could hear the faint rumble of the television from her room. I missed the nights when we used to sleep next to eachother. I think sleeping away from eachother was the last nail in the coffin of our relationship. I turned out my light and glanced at the clock. Almost 2. Her television was still on. She had always been a little bit of an insomniac...

--------------------------------

"You clearly have no idea what you're talking about, you handsome, sophisticated, hyper-intelligent, svelte, well-read, sparking, salty, olive-complected, full-head-of-haired man!" Space Ghost rattled off, getting in the face of famous Bob Costa.

I was curled up in my bed, the television blaring, the picture of Samara on my nightstand, and the tape next to it. I still hadn't recovered from the brutal wake-up call I had just experienced...everything I had just seen and...and felt...and heard...

_  
I was paralized infront of the television, every picture and vision whirling around in my head. So many. Anna. The mirror. The fingernails. Anna on the cliff. The dead horses. Richard Morgan. The barn. Samara...in the plastic...in the mirror...comming out of the well...the well..._

_The phone rang._

_I dived for it. I had to get to it before Kate picked it up. I listened to the fuzzy silence...then...a voice, soft as rain water._

_"...7 days..."_

_"..Samara?" _

_There was nothing._

_"..Samara." I was louder. Firmer._

_Still nothing. Was she gone? Did I really hear her, or was it in my head...?_

_"...Samara!"_

_"...you were looking for me..." It -was- her. I felt myself smiling. She knows who I am...I opened my mouth to answer, when--_

_"Babe? Did you hear me?" It was Katelyn in the other room. I jumped and looked towards the door. The line went silent. I couldn't hear the fuzzy popping anymore._

_"Samara?" I sat up a little. _

_"Babe?"  
_  
_She was gone. I put down the phone, and I felt cold all of a sudden._

_I had just spoken to a child that had died back in the 70s. And she KNOWS who I AM. I walked out of the bedroom. I didn't even hear Katelyn talking to me until she held my arms. I put on a good face, and blamed stress or something. She wouldn't have believed me if I tried..._

I shivered. In truth, the idea that all of this was real scared the hell out of me. I saw what happened to that last girl...was that going to happen to me...?

The T.V. flickered. I stared at it. Just the cable. It's always sucked in this building. It was the cable. That's -all-...

It flickered again.

Just the signal.

It went to static...

...No. God--NO. I wasn't going to get freaked out.

I decidedly turned off the television and laid down.

I needed a new hobby.. 

One that didn't include dead people and cursed tapes.

_The wind was cold. Biting cold, all across this gray moor-like place._

_A small forest of skinny trees surrounded me, like a box. The sky was silver. The ground was wet._

_I felt a tiny hand slip into my own...I looked down..._

_Dark black eyes met mine. Hidden in dusty brown hair._

_Her skin was grey and soggy...no...it was white...and soft and cool._

_I spoke her name...and she smiled._

_I could almost feel the sun on us...she tugged on my hand._

_And I allowed my feet to move...I let myself follow. _

_-------------  
_Thanks for reading! Reviiiieeew as always, many thanks.


	4. Jesus, In the Rain

"Left? Did she say where she was going?"

"No, she just..." I shrugged. It was about noon, I was off. I had gotten up early that morning to make breakfast, and I checked in on Aurora.

She was gone.

And now her...weird-ass bible-thumping super christian cousin was on our doorstep, wondering why she had stood him up for lunch. If he was -my- cousin, I would have stood him up too.

"She's been acting really weird, though." It was true. Aurora specializes in weirdness, but the past few months were just...down-right strange.

"Weird?" He adjusted his backpack, the cross around his neck glimmering at me. Man. Jesus-boy. "How weird?"

"She's doing this project for some class of hers, or something, and she's been getting into it. I mean, really getting into it. She's been going out of town alot, and bringing home books and newspapers, and getting all these phonecalls and shit. And last night was the weirdest..."

"What happened?"

"She brought home this...video tape. And I keep thinking to myself that that fucking school is going to burn her out something bad. And she was quiet -all- night. I--"

"Video tape..?" 

Suddenly, everything about him went...dark. The "I Love Jesus" vibe, just, like, died all of a sudden. I swear, he went 2 shades paler, and his legs were shaking.

"...Yeah...a video tape."

"...what's this...project been about?"

"Some family upstate that used to raise horses or something. Some...Morgan. Anna Morgan, and some kid." 

"...When did she watch it."

" I dunno--"

"WHEN!"

"I-I--Fuck, I don't know! Last night, probably!"

"...I gotta go. If she comes home, tell her to call me, okay?"

"..Yeah, sure..okay."

And he left. Without a goodbye. 

Shit...never piss off a Jesus freak.

--------------------------------------------

Why did it always have to get so fucking cold in this city. It's cold, and it rains. God, I hated it here...Only reason why I stayed was for Katelyn. She loved it here. And it was far, far away from my parents' dreary household. It was refreshing when it wasn't pouring freezing rain.

And right now, I don't know why I was bitching about the rain.

It's the last thing I should have been thinking of.

I had been wandering the city park for over an hour now, wrapped tightly in my black raincoat, my head soaked, feet soaked, and slowly forming a cold...It was the place I'd go to think. Walk aimlessly around in circles, watching the people come to linger here...of course, there weren't any people today.

I was the only one stupid enough to be there on a raining fucking day like this.

My hands were snug inside my coat pockets. I could feel the corner of Samara's picture. I tried to think about her. I really did. But I felt like if I thought about her too much, I'd burn out or something. I had been thinking about her all morning, and now it was almost 1pm. I had to be going crazy. Dead girls calling me at night. Cursed video tapes. I needed a life. A new one.

I kept telling myself stuff like that.

I was trying to convince myself that this wasn't really happening...I was just...dreaming...imagining things...I had an overactive imagination. That's all.

...but I could still feel her little hand in mine...those dark eyes staring up at me...

I stopped out by the pond. The rain had let up a little...I sat by a tree...

No matter how I tried to tell myself she wasn't real. She was. And she wanted me to believe.

"What are you trying to tell me, Samara...?" I asked. I don't know why. It's not like she could hear me.

The night before, I...saw her world. Through her eyes...Her Mother's house. Her Barn. The Horses. Richard.

_She touched a music box on her dusty crate. The greyness of age dissapeared, and it was white and pink, and spun around easily, playing that little tune she knew so well. I was sitting in a chair by her television. She brought me the music box._

I watched it spin on my lap...she smiled at me.

Then she was gone in a flash.

No, not gone, she was by the wall. She was dirty, muddy, and rotted, scratching away the wallpaper to reveal...a tree. A tree, burned into the wood.

Suddenly, the wall was clear. And Samara stood there, young and white-skinned, touching the wall, and beneath her touch, the wood blackened and burned...  
  
_She had made it._

With her hands...with those little hands...

I looked across the pond and into the trees on the other side. I didn't understand. We spent...my night in that barn, in her room. She showed me everything...every piece of her childhood, my head was spinning from it all...

She was just a little girl.

She was just a little girl when she died...she was still a little girl...she was trapped like that, forever. She wanted to reach out, be heard, show the world that...not everything is as it seems...show us...suffering. 

I wanted to cry.

I cried when I woke up this morning. I couldn't help it.

I was terrified of seeing her again.

I wanted to see her to know more and give her comfort.

I wonder if this was how Rachel felt...

I wiped the water from my face. It was almost 2 now. Maybe I should head home...or something...

Suddenly, I felt something.

...a tiny hand...fitting into my own.

I closed my eyes.

There was no way...-no-...-way-...

But I felt it.

There she was.

...and...

...I was afraid...

_Don't be afraid. _

I wanted to run

_Don't leave me._

...I stayed...

_Don't leave. _

I stayed.

--------------------------  
R&R My lovelies. 


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